Down this Path in Life we Chose
by Makkoska
Summary: Dio doesn't cope with aging too well. Luckily Jonathan is there to help him through his birthday. Non-Vampire Dio/Non-Hamon user Jojo AU.


**Down this Path in Life we Chose**

**Summary**: Dio doesn't cope with aging too well. Luckily Jonathan is there to help him through his birthday.

**Notes**: This is a one-shot AU where Dio didn't turn into a vampire and Jonathan never became a Hamon user. It's absolutely self-indulgent, I wrote it for my own birthday, to cope better with getting older.

He had another grey hair. First, they haven't been all that noticeable among all the fair threads, but by now it was undeniable; his temples were more silver then blond.

Dio frowned at the mirror. The line between his brows deepened and refused to completely smooth out even when he quickly forced his facial muscles to relax.

He leaned in to take a closer look at his reflection, taking in the fine wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, the deeper ones next to his mouth. With a long finger he poked at the pale skin of his face, noting how his jawline was getting softer, not as sharply cut as it used to be. He pulled his eyebrows upwards, to give them the arch they were supposed to have, watching the thin lines near his eyes smooth out, them wrinkle back when he let the skin of his face go.

He never quite expected to get old. Not that he planned to die young; he rather imagined living a hundred years while keeping the appearance of a young man in his twenties. He wasn't pleased with reality.

He was fifty and he looked like it. Still a handsome man, but a middle-aged handsome man. He could still wrap almost anyone around his fingers, but with a sudden bolt of panic he wondered how long that would remain true. Seduction, charisma - they were his powers, they made him strong, allowed him to get anything from anyone he wanted. He was terrified that once he lost them, he would be weak and worthless. What else did he have?

He was smart, yes, but life has taught him that in itself wasn't going to get him anywhere. He was no scholar, no professor to be happy with his books alone, with a simple life. A simple, poor life. He shuddered.

Not that he had any financial problems, but the money was technically Jojo's. Dio had free access to it, but he didn't have the thrill of _owning _it. Just as it was with so many things when it came to Jonathan, he was left feeling somewhat out of control. Hapless in face of the power of the Joestar, not quite in charge of his own fate.

He left the mirror and went to slump down on the bed. For the thousandth time in the last thirty years he wondered how on earth did everything come to this. Where did his life steer away from the path he thought he had to walk to fulfil his destiny? He could still clearly recall the day he arrived in the Joestar manor at age of twelve. How one look at the huge building, the servants, the land surrounding it was enough to decide - one day it was going to be his. How one look at spoiled, soft, weak Jojo told him that he would be easy to bully, scare then push to the side.

He couldn't help but snort at his own, foolish self from the past. In that moment when he first looked at Jonathan and so gravely underestimated him, he lost his chance to surpass him. After the foolish start, he still didn't learn his lesson, and everything he'd done - refusing to accept that Jonathan was a force to be reckoned with, not recognizing how their destinies intertwined, not wanting to admit that he couldn't fool him, that Dio could scheme and act, but that Jojo would knew him, really knew him, that he could predict and thus defect him - just took him farther and farther from accomplishing his plan.

He put Jonathan on the edge with that fight over that stupid little girl and the kiss, and the revenge he had on his flea-bitten dog. Not even seven years of lying low managed to fool his adopted brother into a feel of security.

Now that he was thinking about it, poisoning George Joestar was the final step away from that road he thought he had to walk.

Jonathan suspected him and caught him red handed. Dio had been prepared to go to the extreme back then. He was prepared to throw away his own humanity, just to feel in charge, to best Jojo, to prove he was superior. Even nowadays, he often thought about the stone mask, lying in his travel chest, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth. He used to unwrap and stare at it, trying to imagine what would happen if he used it on himself. Sometimes he drew his own blood to drop it on the strange device, watching the hooks snapping out of it. He rarely did it anymore, though.

He would never forget how that drunkard on the street turned so young, so strong - and how he crumbled to dust when the rays of the Sun hit him. While being eternally young and inhumanly powerful held their appeals, Dio didn't think he would choose them now, or ever. He stepped down from that path and now it was impossible to tell where it would have led.

It was all Jonathan's fault, of course.

He was the one giving Dio a chance of redemption. He was the one who believed his tears, fake as they were, and spirited him off, far away from the Joestar manor, far away from England, far away from the Metropolitan Police.

He got his monthly allowance from George Joestar, who was just as much of a forgiving fool as his son. That was enough for them to start travelling - and they haven't stopped since.

Almost thirty years have passed. It was astonishing to think about it. They had been back to England only once since, on the old man's funeral. Their only connection to their old country was Jojo's repulsive little friend he scraped out from the slums of London. He often came to visit, wherever in the world they were staying.

Of course, Speedwagon had his uses. Even Dio had to admit that he had a knack for finances and investments. Ever since Jonathan - despite Dio's vocal objections - entrusted him to look after his inheritance, their travels had become considerably more luxurious. Jojo was a trusting fool, but curiously enough, even the most untrustworthy people seemed to go out of their way to live up to the faith he placed in them.

Like Dio himself.

He sighed, angry at himself. Even aging shouldn't be a reason for getting maudlin over the big oaf.

Maybe he was thinking about this in the wrong way. He never really lost to Jojo, did he? After all, he had the access to the Joestar fortune, he could ask for whatever he wished, and would get it from his rich lover.

The corner of his lips twitched up. Turning fifty notwithstanding, he had not too many reasons to be unsatisfied with his life. November's weather in Buenos Aires was far better than London's weather pretty much any time of the year. Jojo's stupid little hobby, archeology, took them to the most exotic places. Dio refused to dig around in dirt, but he still accompanied the Joestar to the field. Though he got sunburnt way too easily, there was a certain appeal to these expeditions. On these far away, godforsaken corners of the earth, being an Englishman equaled being a lord, no matter if your accent slipped from artificially well sophisticated tones to your childhood slur. He could put on his round sunglasses, his wide brimmed hat and sit in the shade with a book, watching Jojo and his local assistants sweat, trying to dig up pottery fragments, bones or a rare real treasure.

Civilization, Dio had to admit, was overrated.

They arrived in South America not long before the Great War broke out, more than four years ago. Jonathan wanted to rush back to England of course, but Dio refused to. He had no wish to die in a fight, nor did he allowed Jojo to do so.

So, all was well, wasn't it? Dio had no reason to feel maudlin, or to regret anything. It wasn't as if he was _old_, just because he was turning fifty. He wasn't on his death, he had no liver spots, his hands weren't shaking. He had a straight pose; his form was still slender and muscled even if not to the extent it used to be in his thirties. He had another good ten, fifteen years even, before had to concern himself with a failing physique or a slowing mind. And after that, after that…

When Jonathan came into the room, asking if he was ready for the birthday dinner he wanted to bring him to, he found Dio with an arm over his eyes, tears falling steadily.

"How could you do this to me," he accused him, between sobs. Blue eyes blinked at him in concern and confusion.

"Dio, what happened?" he asked with honest worry, sitting down on the bed next to him. He pulled his arm away from his face, ignoring the glare the blond man sent him.

"You… you are what happened!" he sat up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at his partner. "I gave my youth to you. What will happen to me, now that I'm old?"

"You are not old!" Jojo cupped his face, looking into his eyes. "I'll be fifty in half a year as well, but look at us, we are doing just fine. Nothing is going to happen… I'm here and everything will be alright."

"But for how long, Jojo?" he grabbed the front of his shirt, wrinkling it, although he was already dressed smart for dinner. "When will the time come when you just look for a younger lover?"

"You know I'd never do that!" the Joestar denied with vehemence. Dio just gave a doubtful hmm.

He'd never given much cause for doubt, that was true. Not that people weren't interested in him, but he always kept his gentlemanly distance. Maybe he was aware of his lover watching his every move all the time, looking for any suspiciously friendly behavior or a too warm smile. The blond man wasn't ashamed to admit he was quite possessive of his partner.

Dio himself had his flirts over the years - most of the time just harmless fun with both genders. A smile here, a light hand on someone's back, his voice lowered to a whisper as he hinted at what the other wanted to hear, his eyelashes fluttering. Or a smirk and a wink when it worked better. It very rarely got more than that - not because Dio felt the need to be loyal to Jonathan, simply because Jonathan was better than anyone else. Rich, strong and handsome - but even more importantly, the only person who knew Dio, knew his dark side, yet embraced it.

Devil's charm, he heard Speedwagon mutter to Jojo more than once when he was visiting. Dio didn't think he ever meant it as a compliment, yet it was. Weaklings were drawn to it like moths to flame. Jonathan though - he was a naive, trusting fool, yes, but he was never a weakling. He didn't encourage Dio's dark side, he never approved of his less then holy approach to so many things, wasn't pleased by Dio's flirting, manipulation and greed - but he accepted them, embraced them as part of Dio, and still believed that he was good and worthy, a man who should be given a second, third, fourth chance, as if with that belief simply he could change him.

And he did change him, didn't he? Dio was hardly the same person who poisoned his father and stepfather or made sure a dog got burnt alive, anymore.

He smoothed out the wrinkled shirt he was grasping as much as he could, not quite looking into Jojo's eyes.

"I always thought that we are two halves of the same coin, Jojo" he said softly. "That our fate is connected by some invisible thread, which we cannot cut. But will that remain to be true after my looks are gone? After my wit dulls, my body withers, when I will be old, grey and withered?"

"We are both getting older, Dio" Jonathan placed a soft kiss on his lips, before shifting to lay down on his side next to him on the bed. "I think it's romantic. We are walking through this path through life together, from our childhood till the end. This is what love is about, isn't it? I'd never leave you, no matter our age."

Dio felt tears well up in his eyes again, honest ones this time, as they were not born from feeling pity for himself. He blinked them back. It wouldn't do any good to show Jojo that he managed to touch him. He wasn't sure if he was successful in fooling him.

"Are you really getting old, though?" he muttered, nimble fingers opening one, two three buttons of the Joestar's shirt, hand feeling up the hard muscles beneath the undershirt. His body was solid and firm, a force to be reckoned with, just as it had always been. Sure, his dark hair was streaked with gray, and if he neglected shaving for a day, the stubble appearing on his chin was no longer black. He had wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, and he started to wear glasses for reading years ago. Still, age wasn't showing much on him at all. The blond was equally pleased and annoyed by it.

Jonathan run his fingers through his hair and kissed him more deeply. Dio wedged closer, opting be pleased about his lover's body at least for the time being.

"The car is here in half an hour to take us to the restaurant," Jojo murmured, though his wondering touches indicated a different kind of hunger.

"Half an hour is plenty of time, even for old men like us," Dio smirked, finishing the last buttons of his shirt, pulling it off from his wide shoulders and tossing it carelessly aside. It was too wrinkled to be worn to dinner anyway.

They shed their clothing on practiced ease. Glazed over blue eyes looked at his body in appreciation, with a fire that lit if all these decades together never passed. Pleased, Dio arched his back, pushing his stiffening cock against Jonathan's stomach.

Jojo placed soft kisses down his body, working his way down his chest and abdomen. Reaching his goal, he took him into his mouth.

For a man on his fiftieth birthday, Dio produced a full hard-on pretty fast. Jonathan sucked him off, knowing exactly what he liked, starting slow, but building the tempo, hollowing his cheeks as he went down, easing the suction and running his tongue around the tip when he went up. Dio opened his leg wide as he grabbed his lover's graying hair, thrusting into the other man's mouth. A large hand cupped his balls lightly, fingers caressed the soft skin behind them. The blond moaned, abandoning himself to careless, selfish pleasure.

The driver had to wait for them a good twenty minutes, but Jojo made sure to tip him generously for his troubles.

Sated and hungry, Dio made sure to savor every bit of his birthday feast in the restaurant.

"What's wrong, Jojo? You look flushed," he asked with his most convincing, fake innocent smile, running his feet up along the inner side of the other's leg under the table. His partner smiled, recognizing his game, but not minding it. He was indeed flushed, his eyes holding the fire of arousal. He forgot to comb his silver streaked hair. Dio never said a word about it, enjoying the tousled, just-out-of-bed look way too much.

They didn't have time to take care of Jonathan earlier - things did go slower at this age after all. Also, Dio didn't even try to hide that he enjoyed seeing his lover so keyed up. It was good to be desired. It was even better to be loved.

He asked for his dessert, making a show of licking up cream from his spoon. Jonathan's nostrils flared. The night was not over yet, and Dio was determined to get most out of it. It was his birthday, after all.

**3FIN3**


End file.
